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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929178">Thirty Days of Transience</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldsilly/pseuds/stonecoldsilly'>stonecoldsilly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Meetings, Geralt Is Smitten from Day One, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Thinks He Is a Monster, Getting to Know Each Other, How Jaskier Got From Barker to Bathtime Buddy, Jaskier Gets Loquacious When He's Nervous, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e02 Four Marks, Strangers to Acquaintances</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:48:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldsilly/pseuds/stonecoldsilly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>‘You saved my life.’ He says, solemnly. ‘I certainly didn’t do anything to persuade Filavandrel otherwise, you did.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Geralt frowns at him, and the bard cracks a little smile.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>‘And if the, er, forgive me, if the so-called ‘Meat-Purveyor of Certain Unnamed Market Towns’, if you will, can talk down the quite justly furious Filavandrel, then it makes me start to question certain common beliefs, as it were.’</em><br/> <br/>Jaskier has thirty days to convince the Witcher that he is a worthy travel companion.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>363</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Persuasion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The echoes of the song fade away from the valley, and Geralt sighs. </p><p>‘Look, bard, as <em>fun</em> as this was, and really, it was a fucking riot, are you going to fuck off at all?’</p><p>The boy blinks up at him and grins.</p><p>‘Nope,’ he says, popping his lips obnoxiously.</p><p>Geralt didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, but a sinking feeling descends upon him anyway.</p><p>‘What do you mean, no?’</p><p>‘This was a very successful first outing. You make a <em>fantastic</em> muse, truly you do. Already I can almost hear the applause we shall receive on our triumphant return!’</p><p>First outing, thinks Geralt, and outright panics. Fuck that.</p><p>He spurs Roach into a canter, and leaves the boy behind in the dust, hooting and hollering after him.</p><p> </p><p>Evening falls. His camp is set up some ways into the woods, and he has a fat little hare on the spit. Roach is snuffling away in her nosebag happily, and Geralt is just settling down to note down the details of the incident in his bestiary when his ears prick up. A heartbeat, human, about half a mile off, and dreadfully familiar…</p><p>‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He groans aloud, and Roach sympathises. ‘He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.’ She waves her tail in his direction meaningfully, and Geralt waits. He is not going to dismantle his entire camp and flee from one little human, he is not…</p><p>The boy stumbles through the bracken towards the light of the campfire eventually, making enough racket to alert predators for miles around, and squinting directly into the light, ruining his admittedly already limited night vision completely. Idiot.</p><p>‘Ah, hello, Geralt. Come here often?’ He grins, and sets his lute down carefully, before slumping on the nearest log with a sigh.</p><p>Geralt just stares at him. That turns out to be a mistake, because the bard takes it as an opportunity to start talking. </p><p>‘Not that I didn’t appreciate the view, the mighty Witcher and his steed riding into the sunset, but really, that was downright indecorous of you, heading off without even a farewell.’</p><p>Geralt can’t quite believe this little pipsqueak is trying to scold him about his manners. His heartrate is steady, he’s not sweating with fear, he just looks up at Geralt sternly.</p><p>Geralt snaps his head around to look at him, letting his pupils dilate fully. He bares his teeth, sharp canines glinting in the firelight, and growls, ‘What are you doing here, bard?’</p><p>The boy just looks at him, placid as anything. Not even a tinge of fear.  </p><p>‘You saved my life.’ He says, solemnly. ‘I certainly didn’t do anything to persuade Filavandrel otherwise, you did.’ </p><p>Geralt frowns at him, and the bard cracks a little smile.</p><p>‘And if the, er, forgive me, if the so-called ‘Meat-Purveyor of Certain Unnamed Market Towns’, if you will, can talk down the quite justly furious Filavandrel, then it makes me start to question certain common beliefs, as it were.’</p><p>He just stares, and the boy unpacks his new lute carefully, angling it up to the firelight and admiring the finish.</p><p>‘I am what they call me.’ Geralt manages, after several minutes.</p><p>‘And what things they call you.’ The boy says, glancing at him briefly. Their eyes only meet for a moment, but still Geralt feels pinned by it.</p><p>He goes on the defensive. </p><p>‘It makes no difference to me what they call me. I neither need nor want a barker.’</p><p>‘Allow me to try.’</p><p>‘No.’ He says flatly.</p><p>The boy sighs, and sets the lute down gingerly, before swivelling to face him and resting his elbows on his knees. </p><p>‘Look, Geralt, at this point what on earth have you possibly got to lose? If you would simply let me at least make the attempt…’</p><p>Geralt grits his teeth and glares at him. </p><p>‘You could die. You nearly died once today already, you said so yourself. And then I get whoever your people are, swearing vengeance on me, and making things worse. This life is not safe.’</p><p>‘I could die tomorrow, of an apoplexy, or at the end of some bandit’s sword. No life is safe.’</p><p>‘You would only get in the way.’ Geralt tries.</p><p>‘I promise. I only mean to be a help, truly, not a hindrance.’</p><p>‘You don’t even have any supplies. No pack, no bedroll, no food. I am not babysitting you.’</p><p>The boy winks at him, and shoves his arm down into his trousers quickly, before revealing a handful of rather battered looking bread rolls. </p><p>Geralt blinks at him.</p><p>‘Told you I had bread in my pants.’ He says, and winks. Geralt almost cracks then, and he can feel a smile trying to form before he schools his expression.</p><p>‘Come on, Geralt, let me try. I owe you my life, and I put no little stock in that. It’s the only one I shall have, and I’m rather pleased with it so far. Give me a chance, and I can make things easier for you. For your kind. Change the bastards’ minds, prove them all wrong. Come on.’</p><p>Geralt considers this carefully, and pokes at the hare a bit with his stick. </p><p>The bard waits, seemingly content to let Geralt respond at his own pace.</p><p>‘What’s in it for you?’ He asks, genuinely puzzled. </p><p>‘Inspiration. Protection. An education in the wilder side of living, as it were.’</p><p>Geralt snorts. </p><p>‘Think of it as a business transaction, if you prefer. An equal exchange. In return for graciously allowing me to witness your talents at work, I will provide companionship, assistance, and an improved reputation.’</p><p>Gods help him, but the boy is persuasive.</p><p>‘I don’t need companionship. I’ve managed this long just fine without assistance…’ He sighs. ‘But I’ll concede on the last point.’</p><p>The bard grins like a fox.</p><p>‘Give me a year.’</p><p>‘A year?’ Geralt splutters. ‘A week would be too long. You escaped the King of the Elves today bard, isn’t that enough inspiration to be getting on with?’</p><p>‘I do not intend to let Destiny slip through my fingers.’ He says, smiling faintly. ‘Who knows what foes you will face next? I would not miss a one. A year, if you please.’</p><p>‘A week.’</p><p>‘My, you <em>are</em> an accomplished haggler aren’t you. Far more practiced than I, of course. However, and you must concede the point here my dear Witcher, I must admit, even I cannot charm an entire Continent into submission in a week, although I do appreciate the flattery. A month, to ply my trade, and prove myself a worthy travel companion, and if you are not satisfied thirty days hence, then we shall part as strangers once more.’</p><p>Geralt leans forward himself then and wags his stick in the boy’s direction.</p><p>‘You <em>cannot</em> get in the way.’</p><p>He plasters a very convincingly serious expression on his face, but his eyes are dancing with barely repressed glee.</p><p>‘I swear it.’</p><p>‘You have to do as I say.’</p><p>‘Within reason. But I will concede to your expertise.’</p><p>‘If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. If I say, bard, fetch me three strands of white Holly and two hedgehog quills, what do you do?’</p><p>‘Speaking honestly, I’d probably say ‘Geralt, what the fuck, how am I supposed to know what white holly is?’, but I appreciate the sentiment. Complete obedience, within reason, at your disposal.’</p><p>‘Hmm.’ Geralt says. </p><p>The boy’s leg betrays his eagerness, bouncing nervously even as he watches Geralt’s face with an innocent expression.</p><p>‘Fine. You have your month.’ He says, regretting it already.</p><p>‘Yes! You won’t regret this Geralt, really you won’t.’ He jumps to his feet and steps closer, smiling. </p><p>‘Shake on it.’ He says, commandingly, and Geralt just huffs, but reaches up anyway. ‘Gloves <em>off</em> Geralt, for goodness sake, let’s be civil.’</p><p>He peels off his leathers, outright baffled by this bright little human, bossing him about as if Geralt couldn’t snap him in half easily as breathing. The boy takes his bare hand in a surprisingly firm grip, and shakes it sincerely, as if he were any other man, as if his word meant anything to humans, as if he genuinely doesn’t believe the tales. </p><p>This whole day has been full of marvels.</p><p>The boy grins at him again, radiating only a fresh-apple scent that is surprisingly pleasant. It bodes well in a travel companion. For a half a second, he dares to be vaguely optimistic, until the bard opens his mouth again.</p><p>‘Now that the business talk is dealt with, care to share your hare?’ </p><p>He snickers at his own joke, and Geralt sighs, but divvies it up into two portions anyway. The boy throws him a bread roll in exchange, and they eat in peace and quiet on opposite sides of the little fire until he clears his throat again.</p><p>‘About the er, sleeping arrangements. Not to be indelicate Geralt, but I, er, haven’t any.’</p><p>Geralt swallows around his suddenly rather dry mouthful of hare, and blinks rather owlishly at the boy, uncertain as to what he’s asking.</p><p>‘See, I know we only met this morning, but I’m rather fond of you already. And as business partners, I feel we have already managed to jump the hurdle of strangers getting to know one another, and gone headfirst into the hitherto unexplored territory of acquaintances.’</p><p>Geralt just sits, taken aback, and mouths <em>business partners</em> to himself. He ignores the ‘rather fond’ part for fear of his own sanity, never mind the bard’s.</p><p>‘Without beating around the bush, as it were, after one’s newfound acquaintance saves one’s life, it becomes very difficult to believe that one’s er, virtue is imperiled by said acquaintance.’</p><p>Geralt nearly chokes.</p><p>‘What.’ He wheezes.</p><p>‘Well I just thought, it’s a rather chilly evening, and perhaps, if it wouldn’t inconvenience you awfully, if you wouldn’t mind possibly adjusting your usual nightly routine to accommodate myself?’</p><p>‘What?’ </p><p>The boy sighs, gesturing grandly.</p><p>‘Geralt, to put it plainly, I am cold. I have no bedroll in my possession. I should like, in short, to share your bedroll, under the proviso that no hanky-panky take place without prior permission from both parties.’</p><p>‘Hanky-panky?’ He repeats, helplessly. The boy is pretty, and well-formed, but Geralt honestly hadn’t even thought as far ahead as hanky, let alone panky.</p><p>‘I will require another handshake.’ The boy says, meeting his gaze firmly.</p><p>‘I can sleep on the ground.’ He says quickly. </p><p>‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The boy says primly. ‘The entire concept of my presence at your side is to be a help, not a hindrance. And you need to be in top shape, I’d have thought, with all those beasties to fight, eh?’</p><p>‘I can stand guard.’</p><p>‘I’m not having you loom over me all night, that hardly sounds conducive to a good night’s sleep.’</p><p>Geralt looks about the campsite wildly, searching for the last scraps of reason.</p><p>‘I..’</p><p>‘Come on Geralt, some of us have walked bloody miles today, shake on it, there’s a good chap, then we can settle in for the evening.’ </p><p>He stares, bewildered, as the boy takes his hand again in his own warm little grasp and they shake once more. </p><p> </p><p>Half an hour later, the fire is banked for the night, Roach has settled into sleep, and Geralt has a softly snoring musician wrapped around him firmly, legs entangled with his own. </p><p>Without a doubt, one of the strangest days of his life, even for a Witcher.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>it is 6AM and my laptop has died twice already</p><p>i hope you enjoy! &lt;3</p><p>(also we don't learn Jaskier's name for the entirety of the Posada episode... so i'm running with that)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day One - Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt wakes up to an empty bedroll. He sits up on his elbows, and the boy is standing a clear five feet from Roach, admiring her and speaking tender endearments in a hushed voice.</p>
<p>‘What are you doing?’ He says.</p>
<p>The boy turns to him, and smiles. ‘Ah, good morning Geralt! You will notice I am not touching Roach, your marvellous steed. I am merely introducing myself properly, as she is to be my travel companion as well.’</p>
<p>Geralt hums, but approvingly. He stands creakily and starts packing the odds and ends of their camp away.</p>
<p>The boy strides over. ‘Ah, ah, ah, stop that this instant.’</p>
<p>Geralt looks down at him. </p>
<p>‘I am supposed to be of some assistance, yes? I cannot allow you to bear the burden of the work while I lay idle, goodness me Geralt, at least credit me with some notions of fairness, eh?’</p>
<p>Geralt sighs.</p>
<p>‘Go fetch the water then.’</p>
<p>‘At once.’ He takes Geralt’s waterskin and sets off confidently in the opposite direction. </p>
<p>‘That way, bard.’ Geralt points to the stream, not a hundred paces away.</p>
<p>‘My apologies,’ he says cheerily, ‘must have gotten turned around.’ He spins on his heel without a hint of embarrassment and Geralt can hear him humming all the way down to the stream.</p>
<p>Geralt busies himself with stamping out the last few embers of their fire and readying Roach’s tack. She gives him a very judgemental look as he attaches her bridle, and he just hisses ‘What?’ at her.</p>
<p>The bard returns, waving the skin triumphantly, and they set off through the woods, enjoying the morning sunlight.</p>
<p>The peace and quiet lasts about three minutes. </p>
<p>‘Now, I thought perhaps, in aid of the idea that we are to be companions, and as such, we will come to know each other intimately as any two fellow travellers do, that we might in fact speed up the process somewhat?’</p>
<p>Geralt rewinds the sentence in his head.</p>
<p>‘What do you mean?’</p>
<p>‘Merely a little game, of sorts, to pass the time between your laborious exploits.’</p>
<p>‘You want to play a game?’ Geralt has somehow managed to get the world’s tallest <em>child</em> attached to him like a leech.</p>
<p>‘The premise is very simple. We each give honest answers to our companion’s questions, thus learning each other more thoroughly, and indeed ourselves.’</p>
<p>‘No.’ He says, flatly.</p>
<p>There are hundreds of ways that could go wrong, and he watches the boy closely, looking for the trap.</p>
<p>‘Come Geralt, you can decline to answer at any time, I am not attempting to become privy to all your darkest hopes and fears, merely get to know the man I am accompanying.’</p>
<p>‘The answer is still no.’</p>
<p>‘Alright, just five then? To whet the appetite?’</p>
<p>‘I don’t have five questions that I want to ask you. The answer is no.’</p>
<p>‘Pffft. Don’t be churlish.’</p>
<p>Geralt spurs Roach into a trot for a few moments, and the boy takes the hint.</p>
<p>He unpacks his lute as he walks and dances his fingers over the strings. Geralt doesn’t look backwards, but he can hear him.</p>
<p>The boy begins to play, tripping up scales and alternating between short snatches of almost recognisable tunes and half formed melodies. </p>
<p>He settles eventually into his newest composition, and plays the first verse, unaccompanied. Geralt already had the chorus in a loop in his head the whole ride away from the bard, and he can feel his hackles rising.</p>
<p>The boy plays the first verse, then stops. And plays it again. </p>
<p>He plays the first verse slowly, he changes the length of some bits, he adds an introductory flourish, but he plays it again. Only the first verse.</p>
<p>Geralt waits.</p>
<p>He plays the verse, and sings.</p>
<p>And stops and sings it again. </p>
<p>A huff escapes Geralt. It’s absolutely maddening. He can <em>hear</em> the chorus in his mind, but the damn fool bard just keeps playing the verse.</p>
<p>He plays it again, looking unruffled and absorbed in his music when Geralt sneaks a glance behind him. </p>
<p>Geralt counts thirteen repetitions of ‘<em>along came this song</em>’ before he gives in. He brings Roach to a stop and stares down at the boy menacingly.</p>
<p>‘Will you shut up?’</p>
<p>The boy glares at him with piercing blue eyes.</p>
<p>‘Oh, so you <em>do</em> have a question? That perhaps you should like answered honestly?’</p>
<p>He is a spoiled little <em>brat</em>.</p>
<p>‘Are you honestly sulking because I wouldn’t play your stupid game?’</p>
<p>‘I do not sulk. I express my displeasure.’</p>
<p>‘Well express it some other way then. I can’t hear myself think with all that noise.’</p>
<p>The bard wags a finger at him, and says incredibly waspishly, ‘That <em>noise</em> as you so rudely put it, Master Witcher, is the staple of my work. How do you suggest I singlehandedly improve your reputation without practicing my compositions? Hmmm?’</p>
<p>Geralt glares back at him, and even Roach joins in.</p>
<p>‘At least play the fucking chorus.’</p>
<p>The boy drops his gaze and flushes pink. ‘Really?’</p>
<p>‘Yes.’ Geralt grates out. ‘It’s driving me mad.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, you are sweet.’ He looks up shyly, and even bites his lip.</p>
<p>Geralt splutters helplessly. No-one has <em>ever</em> called him <em>sweet</em> before. </p>
<p>‘I do apologise, Geralt, I didn’t mean to get so cross. It’s just, there’s so many things I want to ask you, and I thought if we made it into a game, then it wouldn’t be a case of me pestering you as much. I don’t want to be a bother.’</p>
<p>Fuck, now Geralt feels <em>guilty</em>.</p>
<p>The boy’s eyes look incredibly wide, blue as forget-me-nots. He smiles up at Geralt hopefully and scuffs his boot in the dirt a little. </p>
<p>‘Please?’ He says, all doe-eyed and pathetic looking.</p>
<p>‘Fuck.’ Geralt sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.</p>
<p>‘Oh thank you Geralt!’ The bard grins, and that fresh apple scent rises in the air again, almost visible in the heat of the morning.</p>
<p>He claps his hands excitedly, and babbles away. ‘I promise, only five questions, but I really do need the details of the man behind the myths, in order to flesh out the image, it will be so helpful Geralt, you’ve no idea. And of course you can decline to answer any one of them, and I’ll not press you, I swear. And you may ask any five questions of myself, as you like.’</p>
<p>Geralt hunches his shoulders and waits to be asked whether Witchers can truly feel, or for the true story of Blaviken, or about his parents, or how Witchers are made, or if they really do steal children.</p>
<p>This baffling boy, this brave little bard peers up at a Witcher, smile firmly in place, and asks him, ever so politely, ‘Do you have a favourite drink?’</p>
<p>Geralt just stares in disbelief. </p>
<p>The boy’s smile falters slightly, and the crisp-apple scent recedes as quickly as it appeared.</p>
<p>‘You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to?’</p>
<p>He looks very small all of a sudden.</p>
<p>‘No, wait, fuck, er, just give me a minute.’ Geralt racks his brain frantically. </p>
<p>The boy cheers up again, and even bounces on the balls of his feet.</p>
<p>‘Cintran ale.’ Geralt says decisively.</p>
<p>‘Oh that’s fantastic, that already scans with what I’ve written! I just guessed you see, you seemed to be an ale drinker, but one doesn’t like to make assumptions.’</p>
<p>The bard <em>is</em> actually asking him questions to help with his songs. Geralt is still wary, in case that was an easy opening, and now he will ask about all the old stories.</p>
<p>‘Your turn Geralt!’ He says, and sets off walking again, leaving him no choice but to exchange a meaningful glance with Roach and follow him.</p>
<p>Geralt tries to puzzle out if there’s anything he actually wants to know about the boy, and then realises to his own surprise that there is. </p>
<p>Questions swirl round his head. He wants to know where he comes from, whether he has met a Witcher before to be so at ease around him, why he doesn’t smell of fear, how on earth he has the confidence to think he can change people’s minds about Witchers, and most importantly, was he dropped on his head as a child?</p>
<p>They walk on through the sunlit woods as Geralt thinks, but the bard doesn’t rush him, simply plucks at his lute contentedly, and makes his way through two whole renditions of his new song.</p>
<p>Geralt glances at him, and settles on an easy opening, just as the bard did.</p>
<p>‘What’s your name?’</p>
<p>The boy splutters with laughter. </p>
<p>‘You mean to tell me I’ve been merrily making myself at home without even a formal introduction? It quite slipped my mind, I do apologise.’</p>
<p>Even Geralt cracks a smile at that.</p>
<p>The bard just shakes his head disbelievingly.</p>
<p>‘Goodness me Geralt, how long were you going to wait to ask? I usually try and catch a man’s name before I share his bedroll, that’s for certain.’ He winks, and Geralt feels flustered.</p>
<p>‘It didn’t come up.’ He tries.</p>
<p>‘Didn’t come up, the man says, do you hear this Roach?’</p>
<p>Her ears look terribly judgemental. </p>
<p>‘Unfortunately, that’s a rather tricky one to answer.’</p>
<p>Geralt narrows his eyes. </p>
<p>‘What.’ He says flatly.</p>
<p>‘You see Geralt, I am in fact enjoying life incognito at the moment. It rather breaks the spirit of the game, but unfortunately I cannot answer that question honestly, and so I must decline.’</p>
<p>This must be the real reason he wants to follow a Witcher, Geralt thinks.</p>
<p>‘Are you wanted for something?’ He growls. ‘I’m not putting my neck on the line here.’ </p>
<p>‘No, don’t be absurd, nothing so sordid. I merely wish to avoid the attention of certain parties who are interested in nothing more than tracking me down and returning me to the loving and tender embrace of my family.’</p>
<p>‘You’re on the run.’</p>
<p>‘Somewhat?’ He says, looking sheepish. ‘No trouble will come of it, Geralt, honestly, I just want to avoid all the fuss.’</p>
<p>His heartbeat is steady, and he’s not giving any of the little tells that Geralt has learnt so often mean deceit.</p>
<p>Geralt humphs at him. This little bard is going to be the bane of his existence, he can tell.</p>
<p>‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, you’ve already proven yourself on that score. It’s just safer if you don’t know, for now. I promise I shall divulge my true name at the months end, whether we part as strangers or continue on as lifelong friends.’</p>
<p>Geralt snorts, but nods slowly.</p>
<p>‘What should I call you until then?’</p>
<p>He looks about wildly. ‘I hadn’t actually thought of a nom de guerre as of yet.’</p>
<p>Geralt smirks.</p>
<p>‘Perch. Trout. Mackerel.’</p>
<p>The boy laughs delightedly.</p>
<p>‘I am <em>not</em> joining your cavalcade of fishy friends Geralt. Tell you what, let’s make this interesting. We’ll let Roach choose, shall we?’</p>
<p>He tugs at Geralt’s leg, and he dismounts obediently, curious as to what he has planned next. He takes the reins from Geralt’s hands firmly and addresses Roach directly.</p>
<p>‘Now, Roach, you’re in charge. What do you fancy?’</p>
<p>He releases the reins, and they all look at each other.</p>
<p>She sniffs, a little cautiously, and then heads off to the nearest food.</p>
<p>She stops before a patch of nettles, and the boy <em>actually grabs Geralt’s arm.</em></p>
<p>He doesn’t make a noise though, just watches nervously as she deliberates. Geralt isn’t entirely sure why he doesn’t shake him loose, but the boy is clearly harmless.</p>
<p>Roach shifts along eventually, drawing out the tension, and eventually settles on a clump of little yellow flowers. </p>
<p>‘Buttercups!’ He trills excitedly.</p>
<p>Geralt looks down at where the boy is clutching his arm, and then up at his face.</p>
<p>‘There is no way I am spending a month calling you Buttercup.’</p>
<p>‘That’s a shame darling, I really was quite looking forward to it.’ He flutters his eyelashes coquettishly. Geralt clears his throat and the boy grins.</p>
<p>He taps his finger against his chin and cocks his head a little, looking at the flowers carefully.</p>
<p>‘How about Jaskier?’ </p>
<p>‘That’s just Buttercup in Elvish.’</p>
<p>‘Sounds rather nice though, doesn’t it?’</p>
<p>‘Jaskier.’ Geralt says, testing it out. </p>
<p>‘Let’s do this properly.’ He steps in front of Geralt and beams. ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my good man. My name is Jaskier, renowned musician, king of bards and bard of kings, at your service.’ He makes a pompous little bow, and Geralt can’t help his smile. ‘Now you,’ he clucks.</p>
<p>‘Geralt, of Rivia, Witcher, at yours.’</p>
<p>‘Ah, ah, ah!’ Jaskier fusses. ‘Your new epithet, as well, if you please.’</p>
<p>Geralt sighs and gives in.</p>
<p>‘Geralt of Rivia, Witcher, also known as the White Wolf, at your service.’ He makes his own short bow, and Jaskier claps delightedly.</p>
<p>‘Marvellous, Geralt, really, it does roll off the tongue doesn’t it? You’ll get used to it in no time at all. I have the rather trickier task of the two of us, but once I get it in people’s heads, it’ll spread like wildfire.’</p>
<p>Geralt just hums, and then swiftly goes to fetch Roach before she gets too used to being in charge.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i hope you enjoy! this is actually fun as HELL to write??</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day One- Afternoon and Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The boy -Jaskier- flops down in the nearest patch of grass and grins up at him, happy and golden in the sunshine.</p><p>‘I say, Geralt, might we have a little break for lunch around now? When do you usually stop?’</p><p>‘I don’t.’ He says, and frowns.</p><p>‘You don’t stop for lunch?’ Jaskier sits up on his elbows in surprise. ‘I beg your forgiveness, my dear, but my feet ache something awful. I don’t mean to wring concessions from you, and of course you must consider me a silent observer of your practices, but unfortunately I am a mere human, and furthermore, one who is unhorsed, if you will.’</p><p>Geralt frowns harder.</p><p>The boy looks up at him, considering.</p><p>‘I have accepted your terms, that your lovely equine companion is to remain unsullied by my hands, but as such, I am travelling rather further afoot than I am usually accustomed.’ He looks rather stern now. ‘The very least I shall accept is a lunch break, Geralt.’</p><p>‘It’ll slow me down.’ He says and tries his second best glare.</p><p>‘Pish-tosh.’ Jaskier says, waving a hand dismissively. ‘It’ll be good for you, hmm? Even big strong Witchers need some sustenance to get them through the day, don’t they?’</p><p>Geralt is still stuck on <em>pish-tosh.</em></p><p>‘Come on, do sit down, make yourself at home.’ He flops back down and throws a hand over his eyes, making contended little noises in the warm afternoon sun.</p><p>Geralt sort of stands there for a moment, caught out and awkward, and then goes to fetch their provisions just so he has something to do with himself.</p><p>He drops the last of their hare and bread on Jaskier’s stomach and is rewarded with him startling and flailing dramatically.</p><p>He recovers himself eventually and sits up, thanking Geralt cheerfully, before patting the grass next to him and smiling in invitation.</p><p>Geralt tries his very best glower, the one that usually scares the piss out of humans, but the little bard just snickers at him and throws a bread roll at his head.</p><p>‘Come on Geralt, you can’t relax and enjoy the sunshine if you’re hovering around like a big black bumblebee, can you?’</p><p>He huffs, and sits down near the boy, turning his face to hide the smile that keeps trying to creep onto his face.</p><p>‘Now, from this day forth, lunchtime shall be solely for the purposes of relaxation and entertainment, both of which I am particularly suited to provide. All those in favour say neigh.’</p><p>Roach, the traitor, looks up from her own lunch and whinnies in agreement.</p><p>Jaskier just giggles and does his own whinny back to her.</p><p>They both turn to look at him.</p><p>‘You must be able to do a cracking horse impression by now Geralt, go on, for me?’ Jaskier even flutters his eyelashes and pouts a little. </p><p>The smile keeps trying to escape the corners of his mouth, and he rolls his eyes, feigning exasperation.</p><p>‘For Roach?’ The boy looks irresistibly hopeful.</p><p>He sighs and does his best imitation of Roach when she wants to stop, and Jaskier bursts into hoots of laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. He’s always been very good at animal noises, he thinks, a little proudly.</p><p>The boy calms himself after a minute, and grins up at him. Geralt is helpless to do anything but smile back, a little cautiously at first, but this whole thing hasn’t turned out nearly as badly as he feared. Yet. </p><p>‘We’re all in agreement then. An hour’s break for lunch.’</p><p>‘An hour? Ten minutes.’ Geralt says, determined not to let this little pipsqueak walk all over him.</p><p>‘Half an hour?’ And the big pleading eyes are back.</p><p>‘Twenty minutes.’ He has to be firm about some things, he thinks. </p><p>‘Deal.’ Jaskier says happily, and Geralt surprises himself by reaching out for the handshake automatically. He is getting too used to Jaskier, and his mad ways, and it’s only the first day.</p><p>They shake hands on it briskly. Jaskier passes him the larger portion of hare remaining, and settles into his lunch, eating delicately in small quick bites, unfolding a little handkerchief from his pocket and fussing at his mouth.</p><p>Geralt tears into his with relish, deliberately flashing his too sharp canines and eyeing the boy for his reaction. </p><p>He just offers his fine handkerchief politely, as though Geralt uses little scraps of silk on his battered paws all the time. Geralt just shakes his head and finishes his lunch slightly more slowly, a little abashed.</p><p>‘We have, by my count, a good ten minutes left. What’s it to be?’</p><p>Geralt hums at him, questioningly.</p><p>‘Would you prefer a song or a story?’</p><p>He stammers. ‘I…’</p><p>‘My side of the bargain was to provide companionship. Entertainment falls under that banner, and what is a bard if not an entertainer?’ Jaskier waves his hands expressively. ‘Do you have a favourite song? A tale you enjoy hearing? Your wish is my command.’ He makes a little bow in Geralt’s direction, which even seated, manages to look regal.</p><p>Geralt panics. </p><p>‘I don’t…I don’t really know that many.’</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t laugh or squawk in indignation, he just smiles a little, almost fond.</p><p>‘Then when we part ways, you will have gained a thorough education in these matters. This one,’ he says, picking up his lute, ‘is very popular at the moment, you may be familiar with it already.’</p><p>He starts to strum a pleasant enough tune, and sings a song about maidens and flowers and springtime. His voice is lovely, even to his untrained ears, and Geralt sits in warm sunlight and watches him, performing so beautifully just for a Witcher and his horse, and the ever-present loneliness recedes a little.</p><p>The song ends, and Geralt comes back to himself, and keeps his expression as flat as he can make it.</p><p>‘Your review, Geralt? Three words or less?’</p><p>Geralt makes the mistake of meeting his eyes, and Jaskier looks hopeful, his leg bouncing with excitement. That apple-scent is rising around him, and Geralt doesn’t want it to go away.</p><p>He huffs. ‘Good.’</p><p>‘Oh, thank you Geralt, you’re too kind.’ Jaskier goes all over pink again, and Geralt cannot risk looking at him anymore. He stands up abruptly, and heads over to safer ground, saddling Roach and letting the familiar motions cool his head. The boy is too pretty for his own good. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They set off again, and Jaskier lets him ride in silence for a whole mile before he starts up again.</p><p>‘Now, I believe it’s my turn in our game.’ He skips a little, obviously refreshed by their break. </p><p>Geralt groans.</p><p>‘This is actually quite an important one Geralt, and one I really would appreciate an honest answer to.’</p><p>Dread trickles up his spine, and he keeps his eyes on the road rather than let Jaskier see him try to come up with an explanation for Blaviken or avoid spilling all the secrets of his guild.</p><p>‘I’ve been wondering this for a while now, and you can refuse to answer, of course, but I hope you feel you can tell me.’ He pauses, for a beat, just enough to let Geralt’s heart sink all the way to the bottom of his boots.</p><p>‘If you’re out on a hunt, or a contract, and you get injured, what should I do?’</p><p>His head snaps round so quick the world blurs.</p><p>‘What.’ He croaks out, reeling.</p><p>‘I mean no disparagement to your skills, of course, you sustained mere scratches after you battled the mighty Torque, and the elves were a whole other kettle of fish, but if we should come across something rather nastier, and should the worst happen, do you have any medicines or anything I can help with?’</p><p>The most bizarre heat prickles at his eyes, and gods, this boy is a treasure. </p><p>Humans are fickle, he reminds himself, before his thoughts can run too far ahead of him. He clenches his jaw, and pictures Jaskier holding a stone, chasing him out of town alongside his people. He cannot allow himself to grow too fond. Just because Jaskier treats him so kindly now does not mean he always will. They barely know each other, and sure enough, he will realise he has made a mistake and run away screaming when he finds out what a monster Geralt is.</p><p>The tiniest prickle of hope remains in him, and he didn’t know he had any left.</p><p>Jaskier walks beside him, content to let him answer at his own pace, occasionally darting little glances at his face as if assessing his mood.</p><p>So far, the boy has only been kind, only honest, and Geralt cannot repay his trust with suspicion.</p><p>‘If it comes to it, I’ll show you.’</p><p>Jaskier’s shoulders slump, as though relieved, and the smile he turns on Geralt is blinding. </p><p> </p><p>They walk on, Geralt lost in thought, and Jaskier humming cheerfully and occasionally making little notes on scraps of parchment he keeps pulling out of his pockets.</p><p>Geralt eventually plucks up the courage to ask his next question.</p><p>‘How long have you been playing the lute?’</p><p>Jaskier stops his humming and skips ahead again, turning to walk backwards so he can face Geralt. He manages it very gracefully, and Geralt keeps an eye out for any obstacles.</p><p>‘I’ve been playing for, gosh, about ten years now?’</p><p>Geralt peers down at him. ‘Ten years? Were you still in your swaddling cloth?’</p><p>‘Melitele preserve me, he makes jokes as well. You can’t possibly go around being handsome <em>and</em> witty Geralt, I shan’t stand for a moment more of it, it’s far too much to deal with, and I have quite enough on my plate as it is.’ </p><p>Handsome. Geralt thinks. <em>Handsome?</em>  </p><p>Jaskier just prattles on, as if he hasn’t upturned Geralt’s world at all.</p><p>‘My first love was the harpsichord, of course, and we had a lovely little virginal that I miss dearly, but I rather thought the lute was more practical on the road, as it were.’</p><p>Either Jaskier’s parents were musicians, or at the very least minor royalty, to afford that many instruments. The way he talks, his proud displays of proper manners, running away from home under a false name; and fuck, Geralt has <em>another</em> runaway princess on his hands. </p><p>Geralt isn’t sure he actually wants to know the answer, if Jaskier even allows the question, so he says the first thing that comes to mind while he thinks frantically. </p><p>‘You can play the harpsichord?’</p><p>‘The viol and the harp, with a reasonable degree of accuracy. String instruments favour me, but if you had a flute handy, I used to dabble, for novelty’s sake.’</p><p>Geralt has seen a harp played before. Once, years ago, and picturing the boy plucking at the strings is not helping the whirring thoughts spinning round his mind. </p><p>He lapses back into silence, hoping desperately that his second tangle with royalty will work out better than the first, Jaskier seemingly content to follow him and practice his playing, and Roach plods onwards.  </p><p> </p><p>The day gets cooler as evening approaches, and Geralt thinks, with some degree of reluctance, about the bedroll situation, as he’s begun calling it in his head.</p><p>He wonders if he’s going to have to endure another night trying and failing to fall asleep with Jaskier tucked in next to him. Apparently bloody Prince Buttercup gets clingy at night, which should be something a possible travel companion is warned about, and he has no problem wrapping himself around the nearest source of warmth, which is Geralt. </p><p>Geralt cannot remember the last time someone slept next to him, just to sleep, without coin exchanging hands. It was awful, having the boy curled up against him, so trusting and relaxed, sending little shocks down Geralt’s spine every time their skin brushed.</p><p>They need to get to the next town as soon as possible and get him his own bedroll.</p><p>Geralt wonders for a half a moment exactly when he started lying to himself, and then shakes the thought away sternly. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He turns Roach off the road as the sun begins to set, and Jaskier follows, jumping over as much of the patches of nettles barring the way as he can clear in a single leap, and managing to look like a particularly clumsy deer as he does so. Geralt keeps an eye on him, and he takes a run up to the biggest clump yet. </p><p>Geralt throws an arm out and catches him in mid-air, holding him up by the scruff of his fancy doublet. </p><p>He yelps, and thrashes a little, before making sheepish eye contact and sagging. He looks like a sulky kitten, and about half as vicious.</p><p>‘I nearly had that one.’ He mutters, and Geralt can’t resist the urge to shake him a little. </p><p>‘Saved me hunting for dock leaves.’ Geralt replies. </p><p>He dangles, happily enough, as Roach snorts, and Geralt steers her to the nearest clearing with his knees.</p><p>‘Just out of interest,’ he says conversationally, still firmly held in Geralt’s grip, ‘Do I actually weigh anything to you?’</p><p>Geralt lifts him even higher, one handed, in answer.</p><p>The boy goes pink, and suddenly spicy cinnamon tingles in Geralt’s nose. He can hear his heart suddenly start racing and lowers him gently on the nearest safe ground. </p><p>Jaskier doesn’t <em>look</em> scared at the reminder of his inhuman strength, that Geralt can tell, and he can’t smell the rot of fear, but he has no idea what else would set his heartbeat off like that. He moves slowly and is careful to keep a safe distance, just in case.</p><p>He tells the bard to go and fetch firewood, in case he needs some time to himself, or if he wants to plan his escape, at the reminder of what exactly it is that he’s following.</p><p>Geralt gets Roach untacked and settled, brushing her coat and checking her hooves carefully, letting the familiar task soothe him, and making sure she’s ready for the night, determinedly not listening out for Jaskier's footsteps getting further away. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier returns with an armful of wood, heartbeat sounding much calmer. </p><p>He dumps them cheerfully on the little cleared area Geralt has made, and grins up at him.</p><p>Geralt frowns. </p><p>He looks a little bemused. </p><p>‘What is it?’</p><p>‘You have to arrange them.’</p><p>‘The wood?’</p><p>Gods help him, for all his fancy talk, Geralt needs to remember Jaskier <em>actually</em> has no idea what he’s doing.</p><p>‘Come here.’</p><p>The boy squats down obediently next to him and watches carefully as Geralt demonstrates how to pile the wood up so it will burn evenly. </p><p>He is so intent on learning, little pink tongue poking out in concentration, observing silently, that Geralt plain forgets this isn’t just any other night, and casts Igni reflexively as soon as he’s done.</p><p>The fire burns, and Jaskier yelps in surprise and falls right over onto his bottom.</p><p>Geralt flinches, waiting for the screaming.</p><p>Jaskier just goggles at him, looking between the fire and his outstretched hand, still caught incriminatingly with his fingers twisted into the correct shape.</p><p>‘What was that? Geralt? Was that magic?’ </p><p>Geralt tests the air, but no sour fear scent prickles his nose.</p><p>‘You can do magic! I had no idea. Next time warn a chap, goodness me, nearly singed my eyebrows clean off.’</p><p>Geralt looks at him cautiously, and Jaskier <em>reaches over and grabs his hand.</em></p><p>‘Let me see!’ He says imperiously, and examines Geralt’s hand closely, holding his own much smaller hand next to it, and attempting to copy the position of his fingers. </p><p>‘Amazing.’ The boy breathes, and twists his own hand, as though pretending to cast himself, and that shakes Geralt out of his shock.</p><p>‘Not many people know,’ he says, choosing his words carefully, ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’</p><p>He keeps playing with Geralt’s fingers, soft featherlight touches, and then looks up at him, firelight playing over his now solemn face.</p><p>‘If you prefer it as a secret advantage, I can certainly leave it out of the songs.’ Jaskier says, far more seriously than his years would suggest.  </p><p>Geralt nods, taken aback, and he isn’t sure why he hasn’t pulled his hand away from those delicate touches yet, but Jaskier sounds serious enough, no trace of a lie in his words, and at some point in their travels he was bound to slip up eventually. </p><p>Jaskier traces the lines of his palm and blinks up at him.</p><p>‘Would you show me again? If you don’t mind?’</p><p>Geralt drags his hand away slowly, and glances at Jaskier before he does anything. He just looks excited. Geralt twists Igni again, a tiny ball of fire flickering on his palm, and Jaskier leans in even closer to look.</p><p>He holds his hand out inches above the flame, to test the heat, and giggles with delight.</p><p>‘Honestly Geralt, that’s marvellous stuff. You’re a wonder.’</p><p>Geralt tears his eyes away from Jaskier’s and closes his hand, squashing the fire. </p><p>‘I’d better go hunt.’ He says quickly, and shambles off into the woods in a daze..</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He has absolutely no idea what to do with Jaskier, except panic. Most people have the sense to be terrified of Witchers, who can rend them limb from limb with their bare hands, or burn them to ash in a second, but Jaskier hasn’t reeked of fear <em>once.</em> He keeps saying all these nice things, and being kind, and Geralt is already dreading the moment when he decides to leave. </p><p>Fuck.</p><p>He’ll change his mind when he sees Geralt on a real hunt, not the shambles of yesterday. If he sees Geralt with his eyes hideously black, all the pretence of humanity and civilisation stripped away, he’ll definitely turn tail and run then. As soon as he realises it’s not all fun and games, that he’s travelling alone and defenceless with a monster, he’ll flee as fast as he can.</p><p>The faint music of Jaskier’s lute follows him as he walks through the dark woods.</p><p>Guilt seeps in, that he’d let the boy share his bed, even innocently, and hopefully no rumours of their brief journey will reach anyone else’s ears to sully his prospects.</p><p>Better to get it over with, sooner, rather than later, before he goes through with his mad plan of trying to fix a reputation that’s already in tatters, and better that the little prince returns to the safety of his parent’s arms before word begins to spread.</p><p>He'll take him on a real contract as soon as he finds one, and then they'll part ways.</p><p>Geralt sighs and sets out to catch them some dinner.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt returns, brace of pheasant in hand, and steps into the circle of firelight. Jaskier yelps again, and nearly falls off his perch on the log.</p><p>‘Oh my goodness, you startled me.’</p><p>‘Sorry.’ Geralt says and holds the pheasant up in apology.</p><p>‘Perhaps call out a quick hallo first? So that I might have a warning? You can move jolly silently, for such a strapping chap.’</p><p>‘If you like.’ He says, and sits down to pluck, even as Jaskier steps closer.</p><p>‘I shall exchange one type of plucking for another then, if you’ll pardon the pun.’</p><p>He takes a pheasant and settles to it, deft fingers moving in practiced motions over the feathers. Geralt just looks at the fire and doesn’t respond to the boy’s glances in his direction, though he can feel his gaze.</p><p>After the first pheasants are done in peace and quiet, Jaskier clears his throat, and asks ‘What’s got you so morose? Come on Geralt, chin up, it can’t be as bad as all that, surely?’</p><p>Geralt doesn’t meet his eyes. He wasn’t aware his expression had betrayed him, but the boy is damn canny.</p><p>‘Well,’ he says, after a moment’s silence, ‘whenever my mood sinks, I try to remind myself of three good things, just three, in the whole world, and it helps me remember that pleasant things still exist.’</p><p>Geralt doubts Jaskier has ever suffered a bad mood lasting more than five minutes, but he glances over at him anyway. </p><p>‘At the moment, my three things would be the lovely dinner you caught for us; how wonderful the stars look at the moment, and…’</p><p>He pauses, and bites his lip.</p><p>Geralt raises an eyebrow, curious despite himself.</p><p>‘I know this is awful Geralt, and you mustn’t mind if it’s a bother, but after you showed me your magic, I couldn’t help thinking…’</p><p>‘What?’</p><p>‘If we reach a town soon, might we perhaps buy some tea leaves? Only I’ve missed drinking it so terribly, and after I saw what you could do, I couldn’t help but think you’d be able to heat up the cup so quickly...’</p><p>Jaskier trails off, sheepishly.</p><p>Geralt can’t help himself, he laughs. </p><p>This daft little bugger, instead of cowering at the realisation that Geralt could burn him to a crisp without a word, immediately starts strategically planning his morning cup of tea. What on earth is Geralt supposed to do with someone so ridiculous?</p><p>Jaskier giggles at him and smacks him playfully with a few long tail feathers. </p><p>‘Well, really Geralt, I’m glad you find my addiction so amusing. Truly, I am desperately parched, I haven’t had a decent cup in <em>months</em>, and it’s all I can think about.’</p><p>‘We can get you some tea, buttercup.’ He says, slipping into outright fondness, and Jaskier smiles down at his pheasant. </p><p>‘Now for your three things, Geralt!’</p><p>‘Is everything to be a game?’ He groans, but settles back to plucking, spirits already lifted.</p><p>‘Yes.’ The boy says primly. ‘Merriment is my <em>raison d’être</em>, if you will, and what better way to occupy one’s days than bringing joy to others?’</p><p>‘So, like a jester?’ It slips out before he means it to, and Geralt winces.</p><p>His mouth forms a round little ‘o’ of surprise, and then he laughs delightedly, sitting up and wagging a finger at Geralt.</p><p>‘Are you making another joke? Geralt, really, you must stop, my poor heart won’t manage a whole month.’  </p><p>Geralt just smirks at him and gently throws him one of his spare knives. Jaskier catches it willingly enough and settles to butchering his pheasant, though Geralt watches him closely. This is something he has done before. He expertly dismantles the bird in quick enough time, for a human.</p><p>'You can pluck a bird, but you can't light a fire?' He asks, slightly puzzled by the discrepancy.</p><p>Jaskier waggles the knife at him. 'I spent a lot of time in the kitchens. Hardly any time at all traipsing in the wilderness. My education was sadly lacking in that regard.'</p><p>They finish up in the quiet of Jaskier’s near ever present humming, but it doesn’t interfere with Geralt’s listening for threats, so he pays it no mind, save enjoying the tune.</p><p> </p><p>He thinks about his own three nice things, and Jaskier looks up at him expectantly as he sets the birds over the fire to roast away.</p><p>‘Probably the dinner. And Roach.’ And you, he thinks hopelessly.</p><p>‘And?’ Jaskier prompts.</p><p>‘Not injured, at the moment.’ He says, and that is enough for any Witcher.</p><p>Jaskier looks a little sad himself at this, but he nods, and picks his lute back up.</p><p>He sings a pretty song about the stars, and Geralt looks at them obediently for a bit, as Jaskier names the constellations above them and makes up his own verses about the stories behind them. He does make for good company, as he promised, and it’s as good a night as Geralt has had in years.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt goes about as he normally would after that, checking his potion count, updating his bestiary, and then readying his cloths and polish to tackle his swords after dinner.</p><p>They enjoy a pheasant each, and Jaskier manages most of his before giving up and sighing in contentment, passing it to Geralt without a second thought. He finishes it off, and then makes sure to pack the rest away for the next day. </p><p>He needs to keep a closer eye on what they’re eating, because he’s pretty sure humans don’t normally just eat bread and meat, but it’s been a couple of years since he last managed to get served food at an inn, and the memories of food before the mutations are dim by now.</p><p>Jaskier perks up then, and eyes his swords, before looking at Geralt for permission.</p><p>He nods, and Jaskier steps closer, and unsheathes his silver sword smoothly.</p><p>‘You won’t catch anything.’ The rumours are sometimes useful, but he reassures Jaskier anyway.</p><p>Jaskier snorts. ‘Hadn’t heard that one, good grief.’ </p><p>He grips the hilt correctly, and holds it up to the light, letting the firelight play over the metal. He shifts his stance into first position, and swings it in practice a few times, testing the weight.</p><p>Geralt didn’t think he knew anything about swordplay. Jaskier definitely isn’t armed, no surreptitious clink of metal anywhere in his clothes, but he supposes any noble gets taught how to wave a sword about.</p><p>He makes a few real blows, and Geralt studies his form. Obviously trained to fight against men, not monsters, and prone to overextension, but good enough for a human with hardly any years under his belt.</p><p>Jaskier sheathes the sword again and turns to Geralt triumphantly. </p><p>‘Bloody heavy.’ He says, shaking out his wrist. ‘But marvellous work, really.’</p><p>‘You can fight. Kept that one quiet.’</p><p>‘I am not merely decorative, Geralt.’ He winks.</p><p>‘Cheeky little brat.’ Geralt flings a cloth at his face. ‘If you can wield a sword, you can polish one.’</p><p>‘Oh, Geralt, if you wanted me to polish your <em>sword</em>, you need only ever ask.’ He cackles, and Geralt huffs out a laugh, trying not to let his ears go pink, and starts concentrating on the silver instead of letting himself think too much of that joke.</p><p>Jaskier takes the steel sword, giggling, and sets about his task, smiling back at him coyly whenever Geralt meets his gaze.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt spreads out the bedroll when he finishes up, a touch nervously, but Jaskier just peels off his fine boots and tucks himself in happily enough. He makes sure the human is closer to the fire, and removes his armour, until he is just in shirt and trousers.</p><p>Jaskier is lying on his front, leaning on his elbows, and Geralt tips onto his back and rests his head on his arm, trying to keep his eyes on the stars and not on the firelight playing over Jaskier’s face.</p><p>Their sides are pressed together closely enough that he can feel the bard’s warmth, the little luxury of another body, and he knows Jaskier is looking at him.</p><p>‘Geralt,’ he says, in hushed tones, ‘do you know any children’s tales?’</p><p>He turns a little before he can stop himself and makes the mistake of looking at Jaskier. Half his face is lit gold and beautiful.</p><p>‘Children’s tales?’ He manages. ‘Do you have any idea how old I am?’</p><p>‘No?’ says Jaskier, curiously. ‘I’ve heard Witchers lead longer lives than mortal men, but I wasn’t sure if that was rumour too.’</p><p>‘I’m about…’ Jaskier leans closer, and their arms brush, sending prickles of heat down his spine.</p><p>‘…Eighty?’ He croaks out.</p><p>Jaskier grins like a fox. ‘So when I call you an grumpy old sourpuss, you can’t tell me off?’</p><p>He elbows the little pest in the ribs gently, and the bard just snorts and pokes him right back. Geralt catches his hand, before it turns into all-out war, and Jaskier relaxes back into the blankets.</p><p>‘I just fancied a bedtime story. Even if it's eighty years old.’ The boy says, and Geralt is still holding his goddamn hand. He drops it quickly, and Jaskier just leaves his hand lying on Geralt’s chest, and even shuffles a little closer, tucking himself into the Witcher’s side cosily.</p><p>Lush apple happiness hangs in the air around them, and Geralt is suddenly so absurdly grateful that he chose that tavern in Posada. Even if Jaskier does leave, tomorrow or the next day, or at the end of the month, he is still glad he got to have this, while it lasts.</p><p>It is easy to be optimistic when the world around him smells this fresh and crisp, like the first bite of the spring crop, and he summons all his courage and shifts his bulk slightly closer to Jaskier, watching for his reaction carefully, ready to excuse it as sharing his warmth, but the boy just smiles quietly, and curls his fingers in Geralt’s shirt.</p><p>He clears his throat, and drums up the dregs of the last story Visenna told him, faint in his memory, but enough of a fairytale for a runaway prince. </p><p> </p><p>‘Once upon a time, there was a girl who fell in love with a star…’</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this completely got out of hand, but my goodness, i love these boys already!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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